


Joaquin and Nifty Having a Good Time Being Trash

by tannoreth



Series: DND Fic [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), QDND
Genre: M/M, tbt to the first qdnd fic, we've come so far
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1308568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tannoreth/pseuds/tannoreth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single moment of distraction and Joaquin’s back is on the desk with Nifty’s cane pressed against his throat, trapping one arm. It doesn’t cut off the air entirely, but his breaths come quick and shallow, gasping. Nifty’s bending over above him, standing between his legs and smiling a smile the temperature of ice. He should be able to push Nifty off, he’s physically stronger, he knows it, but he can’t breathe, so he just shoves one-handed against Nifty’s chest and pulls his hair, making it fall out of the clip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joaquin and Nifty Having a Good Time Being Trash

A single moment of distraction and Joaquin’s back is on the desk with Nifty’s cane pressed against his throat, trapping one arm. It doesn’t cut off the air entirely, but his breaths come quick and shallow, gasping. Nifty’s bending over above him, standing between his legs and smiling a smile the temperature of ice. He should be able to push Nifty off, he’s physically stronger, he knows it, but he can’t breathe, so he just shoves one-handed against Nifty’s chest and pulls his hair, making it fall out of the clip.

Joaquin gets some satisfaction in seeing Nifty wince at the hair pulling, but then Nifty uses his free hand to unbuckle Joaquin’s belt, and Joaquin stops breathing altogether. He hadn’t even noticed he was half-hard –and why was he, he thinks in horror, there was no reason to be - but Nifty palms his dick roughly through his underwear and presses down harder with the cane, hard enough that Joaquin is happy his wardrobe consists mostly of high-collared shirts. He squirms against the treatment, but he can’t breathe at all now. His body feels weak and hot. Lightheaded, his face turning red, he isn’t sure whether it’s all just a reaction to the choking or – no, it’s just the lack of oxygen, he hates this, he needs Nifty to let him go _now,_ he needs to _make_ Nifty let him go.

“Stop,” he says, intending it to be an intimidating growl, but without any air left in his lungs it comes out as a squeak. Nifty grins horribly and releases the pressure just enough to allow Joaquin to take a wheezing breath.

 _“Stop?_ You seem to be quite enjoying yourself.” Nifty licks his lips and, still one-handed, yanks Joaquin’s pants down around his hips, exposing his now fully hard dick.

Oxygen flows to his brain and, ignoring Nifty, he kicks out and catches Nifty in the kneecap, making him stumble back, cursing. Joaquin takes the opportunity to grab Nifty’s cane, and uses it to push Nifty back against the wall. Rather than choking him with it, he grabs Nifty’s hands and lifts them above his head, pinning them with the cane. They stare at each other eye to eye – or actually Joaquin stares up at Nifty, but it’s not like that’s something he’s noticed before or is noticing again now, it’s definitely not something that bothers him - panting slightly from exertion. And _only_ exertion, Joaquin tells himself, ignoring all evidence to the contrary.

Nifty’s smirk slips for a moment, caught off balance, but then creeps back over his face. “Don’t you want to feel _punished?”_ he says, and slides his thigh between Joaquin’s. Joaquin jumps back instinctively, and Nifty pounces. He uses his other leg to trip Joaquin, and Joaquin falls heavily to the floor, hitting his head against the side of the desk. Everything goes blurry for a moment, and Nifty traps both of Joaquin’s hands behind him with the cane, then sits on Joaquin’s thighs so that Joaquin is lying in an uncomfortable twisted position.

“Don’t you think you deserve this?” he hisses. Joaquin shakes his head, half to clear it, half as a weak protest. Nifty snorts and when Joaquin tries to buck him off, he grinds his hips against Joaquin’s and Joaquin involuntarily gasps. “You do deserve to be punished, and you deserve to not even enjoy it,” Nifty continues, giving the cane a twist so pain shoots up Joaquin’s arms. “But at least it looks like you don’t want to be enjoying it. You won’t even admit to yourself that you want it.”

“I’m not – I don’t want _anything like this from you!”_ Joaquin shouts, twisting his body wildly against the restraints. Nifty grabs for his neck again, but instead of choking him this time he hooks his fingers beneath the leather collar and draws Joaquin up to look at him.

“Your mouth is saying one thing and your body is saying something else,” he taunts, and rocks his hips against Joaquin’s again. “What, too embarrassed to admit how desperate you are, you’ll even take it from someone you hate?”

Joaquin is still embarrassingly hard, but it isn’t like he’s going down without a fight. With a yell, he flips Nifty off of him, but his pants are tangled around his knees and Nifty is slippery. The cane goes clattering across the room, but Nifty keeps his hold on Joaquin’s collar. Joaquin ends up on his hands and knees on top of Nifty but still restrained – Nifty’s hand is tight against Joaquin’s throat and his legs are wrapped around Joaquin’s thighs.

Nifty suddenly reaches for Joaquin’s face as if to kiss him and Joaquin jerks back, disgusted. Too late, he realizes this was a trick, because now he’s off balance, falling backward, and then his back is against the front of the desk as Nifty straddles him.

“Get off - !” His protest turns into a gasp as Nifty strokes him with the hand not hooked in the collar, and leans forward to bite his neck near his jaw, where no collar would cover a bruise. Joaquin squirmed, trying to wriggle away, trying to pretend that he wasn’t struggling not to arch his hips into Nifty’s hand.

Nifty snorts again and puts his forehead to Joaquin’s, his hair hanging down around their faces. “And there you were, acting such a leader on that boat, as if you were somehow better than this. As if you won’t abandon your morals as soon as the going gets tough or as soon as something you want comes in reach.”

“I haven’t abandoned-“ Joaquin tries to spit back, but Nifty presses him back against the desk so he can’t breathe again and his back arches against Nifty, his nails scratching Nifty’s back, his body betraying him in the worst way.

Nifty’s laughing at him now, and he hates it, he hates it, but he’s gasping for air and not even thinking about escape. When Nifty lets go of his dick, he unthinkingly groans, wanting more. Nifty keeps laughing.

His eyes are closed, but he finds himself being pulled up, and when he opens them he’s on his knees with Nifty standing in front of him, still guiding him by the collar. Nifty uses his free hand to undo his own pants. When Joaquin looks up at him, Nifty’s face is flushed and his hair disheveled. Joaquin would get some satisfaction from that except that he knows he looks even worse.

Nifty pulls out his own dick and suddenly Joaquin realizes what he’s supposed to do. He opens his mouth to protest again – which is, of course, a mistake, as Nifty takes the opportunity to tug him forward with the collar.

It’s – awful, but also not awful, which is sort of awful in itself. He refuses to move his head until Nifty grabs his hair and moves it for him.

“El-“ Nifty gasps, and then bites down hard on his own lip. Joaquin wonders about that for a moment, but then Nifty rocks his hips forward and Joaquin almost chokes. Eyes watering, he tries to pull away, but Nifty pulls at his hair, keeping him in place.

Joaquin realizes this isn’t going to end until it, well, ends, and he’d rather not choke before that happens. He pulls his head out of Nifty’s grip and takes a hold of Nifty’s cock with one hand, moving his hand and mouth together.

It’s clumsy and there are more teeth involved than strictly necessary – partially to get back at Nifty and partially because Joaquin’s never done this before, but it doesn’t take long before Nifty is gasping short and shallow. Joaquin glances upward and accidentally meets Nifty’s half-closed eyes. He looks away, his whole body burning, ashamed and turned on from the shame and ashamed about being turned on.

Nifty shudders and comes, and Joaquin immediately pulls away forcefully and spits it onto the floor. He’s shaking. He’s also still hard, his skin feeling hot and tight. He hates himself for it.

Nifty, however, lets go of the collar. He buttons up his pants, straightens his shirt and cape, and brushes his hair with his fingers to clip it back again. He looks down at Joaquin with one eyebrow raised, and Joaquin suddenly realizes he’s half naked on the floor, legs splayed open and bruises probably developing all over his neck. His face burns and he hurriedly backs up against the desk.

Nifty shakes his head, then picks up his cane. He swings it around and points it at Joaquin. “You enjoyed that and you want more of it,” he says, and it’s a statement of fact. Joaquin says nothing, just presses his lips together and pulls his pants back up, despite still being turned on. Nifty doesn’t wait for an answer, just shakes his head and walks jauntily toward the door. He opens it, then pauses as a thought strikes him and turns back to Joaquin.

“I’ll be sure to tell Rosalind about this one,” he says, and Joaquin grits his teeth. “She thought she’d one-upped me with you, but I’m sure no matter how well she fucked you, it wasn’t as humiliating as that. Be sure to call in on her next time you see her.“ He smiles, and closes the door behind him.


End file.
